Is this what writers do? Conjure the worst then set you there, contorting to listen for the beauty that sings in suffering? Your boiling body fights, trembling and next to you in darkness, brooding I see the struggling and the worst and imagine your beauty
as a memory that enters a room full of mourners- sunlit breeze captured in billowing fabric which turning and holding you there for a moment lets you go as the tears and the chatter go on
you’re every melody and every song you’re the pounding in my head all night long pounding, pounding all night long bleary eyes and heavy cheeks you’re the sore in my bones that make them meek and every other week another year come and gone, so long
the ringing in my ears the salt in my tears, tongue long against my face catching them before they slip away another race down the roadway to your doorframe come 2nd place but who’s to say i kiss you anyway
Hello world (coughs) Tell me something (clears throat) Afraid of a little cold? Tell 'em I'm not affected Squeeze the checker harder 37 and going down temp. No Sir, no admission now Yet the whole squad passes through Let my normal fever in I assure no one will be sick tomorrow
(sneezes) Emergency evacuation! Residents, clear the floor Nurses coming through Catch a small fever with cold We won't let your sick *** in here
dead man's requiem, how does god weep when he's laughing? shadow puppet queen; it hurts, doesn't it? the grip of life loosening rapidly, rapid fire... welcome to the bullet feast. Go outside and play with time now; chess with the past, checkers with the present, poker with the future. howl at the sun for a change; smoke on some of that science if you think it'll save you–– eat names for breakfast. break every mirror that pities you, water your houseplants with holy water. drink tea sap. 107.1° Fever wolf.